


it's you (has been, all along)

by elisu



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Animagus, Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, the woes of academia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28259964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisu/pseuds/elisu
Summary: Jeno's problems melt away at the paws of a pretty silver cat, and Jaemin has something he badly needs to tell him.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 5
Kudos: 158
Collections: NCTV Secret Santa 2020





	it's you (has been, all along)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seodreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seodreams/gifts).



> merry christmas :)

  
  
  
  


The first time Jeno sees The cat is when he's on his way out of the quidditch change-rooms. He's hauling a weighty sack of practice equipment over one shoulder, and in his left hand, a clipboard with the next month's training schedule hand-written in neat lettering. Usually Heejin would be there to help him, but tonight she's managed to come down with a case of the incurable common cold, and not without a good deal of protesting (never without a good deal of protesting) has taken the night off training to get some rest in her down room. 

The cat in question is a gorgeous silver-haired Persian that looks a little familiar for a reason Jeno can't put his finger on, but not enough for him to think twice of it. It's balled up neatly in the corner of a windowsill like a minutely breathing ball of grey yarn, and he can't rush to the store cabinet fast enough so he can put away his things and go befriend the little creature. 

"Hey there," Jeno (not the cat) purrs softly, running a gentle hand over the curve of the cat's back. Its due is adorably smooth under his fingertips, and it seems to like the attention it's getting from the seventh-year boy, if the satisfied meows and smiling (cats definitely  _ can _ smile— Jeno could sit you down and have a passionate debate regarding this topic) are any indication. 

Jisung collects abnormally round rocks, and Jeno collects cat-friends. It is simply his legacy to fulfil. 

He continues talking to the cat, introducing himself politely and making small talk (out of respect, of course)— and in no time, he's let his surroundings and thoughts melt away like the pumpkin in last night's stew (nowhere to be found, to his disappointment). 

The sound of Donghyuck's laugh echoing down the hall breaks the little bubble he's in, and in no time the world starts to flood in again. Merlin's beard, he's got a painful amount of Potions homework to finish tonight. And on top of that, he’d promised Mark he’d send him an owl this week. 

Jeno gives the cat one last scratch. “I’ll see you around, my friend,” he murmurs, and makes his way back to the Gryffindor common room. 

  
  
  
  


“What’re you thinking about?” Heejin queries at the breakfast table the next day, voice still a little nasally from last night’s cold. There’s an extra scarf around her neck this morning-- a Slytherin one on top of her own red-and-gold Gryffindor scarf. Jeno eyes it as he chews on his bread roll. 

“The way you look like a Christmas tree with those two scarves wrapped around you,” he muses with his mouth half-full. 

She rolls her eyes. “Anyway,” her voice drops a few levels and gestures for Jeno to lean in a bit closer. Dismissing the fact that Heejin is probably still sick with the cold, he complies. “I’m pretty sure Jisung’s finally going to ask that Puff boy out today.”

She doesn’t have to explain which Puff boy she’s referring to; they’ve both seen Zhong Chenle enough times to know. Tall, bubbly fifth-year kid with bleached blonde hair and a smile that rivals the literal  _ sun— _ he and Jisung had been joined by the hip ever since they were both first-years and happened to catch the same Hogwarts Express carriage all those Septembers ago. 

“You mean they’re not already dating? I could have sworn I saw them kissing outside our common room the other day.” Jeno says, reaching out to grab another roll— and the jar of marmalade sitting across from him. 

“You probably did, they’re weird like that... I’m glad they’re finally no-no homo now, though.”

“Yeah, I’m happy for them… My! That must’ve been why Jisung was so nervous at training last night. He didn’t say a word for the entire first hour, and then when I asked him about it, he just said, “nothing!” and giggled.”

Heejin coos. “He’s adorable.”

Jeno smiles fondly, before nodding his head lightly in agreement and stuffing the entire roll in his mouth. 

“You’re unreal.”

  
  
  
  
  


As it turns out, Jisung’s plan must have gone successfully, because when Jeno bumps into him on his way to the library, Jisung pulls him aside in the corridor, flush-faced and excited, and he doesn’t wait a second before spilling the good news. 

“-and he said he likes me too! He’s liked me back all this time! All this time I thought he just saw me as a best friend, you know? Because I only started liking him…” Jisung trails off, and pauses to do what Jeno can only assume to be picturing a mental abacus in his head, “two-ish? Years ago? Although I’m not really that sure. But yeah, I only really saw him as a best friend until Third year, and then...’ he gestures vaguely, then continues talking a mile a minute. “Yeah! But I really didn’t see this coming, though. Did you, Jen? Did you see this coming?” 

“Oh…” Jeno suppresses a laugh. “No, I didn’t, Sung.”

Jisung lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s good! I really didn’t want this to be too obvious, you know? Since we’re kind of lowkey…” For the sake of not being patronising, Jeno bites back a question regarding his junior’s definition of the word ‘lowkey’ and whether it includes painfully obvious longing stares and kissing in hallways. So he nods. 

“-am I rambling? Oh boy, oh boy. I think I’m rambling.”

“A little,” Jeno says, gently. “I’m really happy for you, though, Sung. And for Chenle, too. He’s a lucky kid.”

“Oh thank you, Jeno. Do you think I should send my mother an owl about this?”

“I think you should go to class now, Sung.”

“Oh Merlin, you’re right. I’ve got Longbottom for Herbology and he is  _ insufferable _ towards those who are late. I’ll catch you later, Jeno!’

And just like that, Jeno is watching Jisung sprint down the stairs two at a time, wondering where all the time has gone and wondering why he’s feeling a little wistful at hearing his junior’s charming love story. 

  
  
  
  


Donghyuck has answers for him when Jeno reaches the library and sits down in the empty chair next to his. “You’re just the Cat Lady type, Jen. Most cat ladies begin in their forties when they can’t find love— they collect cats instead to fill that emotional void and live in a house all by themselves with their eleven cats. But  _ you _ …” Donghyuck gives him a prolonged, accusing look. “You’re seventeen and you’ve started now.”

Jeno blinks. Donghyuck has just described a lifestyle rather ideal for him and it’s far too early in the morning for personal attacks and/or epiphanies. 

Then it dawns on him. “I’m going to be forever alone.” 

“You are,” Donghyuck replies, quite matter-of-factly. 

Jeno pulls out his bullet journal. Flips to the current month’s spread and scans the page for a free Sunday. When he finds one, he slams the book shut. “Sunday morning two weeks from now. You and me. I need another cat.”

“A-”

“..nother cat,” Jeno finishes for him. If I’ve already gotten a head start, I’d at least have to do it well.”

“Unbelievable,” Donghyuck mutters, shaking his head and going back to his Charms notes. 

Jeno can’t say he disagrees. 

  
  
  
  


Some several days later, one of his classmates gets paired up with him for a group project in Astronomy. Jaemin Na, Donghyuck’s roommate and shin ramyeon dealer (Hogsmeade has no Korean grocery and Donghyuck’s parents do not believe in instant food). Jeno has talked to Jaemin a couple of times in the past-- mainly when stopping by his and Donghyuck’s dorm in the dungeons, but not enough to consider him a friend. 

When he waits for him outside the library-- the spot they’d agreed on, and Jaemin doesn’t turn up at all, it’s safe to say Jeno is a little forlorn. 

Worried, maybe? And rather disappointed. 

  
  
  


Next lesson is Divination in the North Tower, and Jeno arrives at class looking troubled (which Professor Kang wastes no time in pointing out before the lesson begins). “Just want to look out for my students!” she lets him know kindly, when Jeno assures her that everything is completely fine. “Do feel free to come to me any time if something _ is _ up, though.”

When Donghyuck slides into the seat next to Jeno’s, he catches the perplexed look on his face too. “Oh!” He says, in the middle of arranging his books on the wooden desk. “Jaemin. He was called up to the office last period, and couldn’t meet you in the library. He says he’s very sorry.”

So that’s why. Jeno breathes a long “oh,” in reply, relieved that at least nothing terrible happened. 

  
  


It’s like a weight’s been taken off his shoulders, and the rest of the class goes by swimmingly. 

  
  


“Oh, Professor, I love your new salt lamp. It looks so pretty!” They hear Yeji Hwang, another Korean student, saying from her desk near the window. Professor Kang has just finished looking over Yeji’s notes, as it seems, and given her a stream of well-deserved praises on her meticulousness. 

“It looks like you could do a line of it in the bathrooms,” Donghyuck whispers dryly, and a Renjun Huang sitting at his desk in front of them snorts when he overhears. 

“Is everything quite alright over there?” Professor Kang stands up straight and inquires, hearing the disruption. 

“Quite alright, miss,” Renjun says with a straight face, while Jeno struggles to keep his lips from turning up at the corners. Yeji shoots them a confused look, then turns back to writing her notes. 

  
  


Divination isn’t the hardest subject for Jeno, nor for Donghyuck, or Renjun for that matter. And while the three of them  _ try _ to keep all their shenanigans out of class, they always seem to make their appearance in this one. Currently if Jeno keeps his head down and stays quiet, Professor Kang will most probably assume that he’s completing the ritual worksheets and not studying his Potions notes. 

The worksheets can wait-- he’s got time to do them tonight. 

  
  
  


It’s at dinner that Jeno remembers he’s got a group project to attend to-- the reminder being a very apologetic Jaemin Na tripping over his heels to sprint over to the Gryffindor table as soon as he’s entered the Great Hall. 

“Jeno,” he says, panting a little. “I’m so, so sorry I stood you up this morning, I…”

“Woah,” Jeno starts, standing up. He’s slightly taken back, admittedly. “No, it’s okay I promise.”

“No, no. I didn’t even tell you. I should’ve told you before I went to the office.”

“Jaemin.” Jeno says firmly. “It’s fine. I just did my other work in the library. Plus-- it’s not like you could’ve run all the way across the school to tell me, and then run back to the office.”

Jaemin smiles, and now Jeno’s really taken aback. “Oh, I’m a pretty good runner, though,” he says, with a glint in his eye. It’s now that Jeno notices he can’t take his eyes off of this kid. Jaemin’s hair is dyed gunmetal grey-- a dark shade of silver that shines so nicely that Jeno wants to reach his hands out and touch it like it’s some type of cat. Jeno’s brother Doyoung dyed his hair a similar colour last summer, but no amount of healing spells could fix the harsh brittleness that bleach damage gave it. If Jeno weren’t so flustered right now he’d ask how Jaemin gets his hair texture so nice. 

And his teeth. He has so many of them. And they’re so pearly and straight and look like they were placed individually by Merlin himself. Jeno thinks of the painful years of braces he himself had to endure. No-- Jaemin’s look like he was born with them looking so perfect. He’s got really nice lips, too-- so rosy and soft-looking. And did Jeno mention Jaemin’s eyes? He’s gone to school for seven years with this boy-- how’d he not notice earlier the way his eyes look like windows to some kind of galaxy? 

He stops thinking, fortunately. “A runner?” 

“Yeah. Do you run, too?” Surely Jaemin is not willingly making small talk with him-- no-one would submit themselves to such an ordeal. 

Jeno hesitates. “Only to classes when I take too long to wake up in the morning,” he tries, and Jaemin bursts out laughing. 

“That’s valid. Do you have time to meet again tonight?”

“I do,” Jeno replies. “At the library again?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

It is. Jaemin apologises again and scurries off to sit with the other Slytherins, and Jeno sits back down in his chair to eat his dinner. 

  
  


When he faces the table again, he’s met with a few suggestive looks. “So,” Renjun sing-songs. “Meeting up with a pretty boy, are you?”

Jeno blushes. “Why are you even sitting here, is there something wrong with the Ravenclaw table?”

“Avoiding the question again, I see.” Heejin drawls through a mouthful of curry. Her cold appears to have cleared up by now, judging from the lack of nasally-ness in her voice. 

Jeno wishes he could relate— his spice tolerance is borderline pathetic, and the reason why he's currently tearing up over a spoonful of mild curry. 

“Where are you going with him?” Jisung asks, taking a sip from his goblet of water.  _ That makes two questions to worm his way out of _ . 

They're all looking straight at him. He rolls his eyes, not enjoying the attention, then says, "Just the library. We're partnered up for an assignment." 

Now that wasn't so hard to say, was it? 

Soon the conversation picks up again and heads in the direction of graduation— a subject that's been keeping Jeno awake at night for a plethora of various reasons. 

Zoning out a little, he lets his mind drown itself in the warm-spirited atmosphere of Hogwarts' dining hall— the dark oak furniture, the sea of laughter, and the people who are seated around and next to him. They're his second home, these stone halls are, if not his first. 

_ This _ , Jeno thinks,  _ all gone _ . "Is the senioritis kicking in, Jen?" Heejin turns to him and asks, not unkindly. 

He smiles and nods in reply. "Why, did the existential crisis show on my face?" 

Heejin laughs and puts her hand on top of his, a gesture that softens his tension almost immediately. "We'll be okay, Jeno," she says, and this time he just has to believe her. 

  
  
  


They say things happen in threes, and Jeno would beg to differ. His blossoming relationship with the silver Persian cat is thanks to the fact that they encounter each other so often, nowadays.  _ Fate _ is what Jeno doesn't want to think it is, but the sheer amount of times he sees the animal begs to differ.

Take last night, for instance— take Jeno coming back from a meeting with his Potions professor and the cat just  _ happening _ to slink out of the Slytherin dungeons at that very moment. Luck? Merlin? Excellent timing? There's always the possibility that the cat's been following him around, but if Jeno realises this he does not show it. 

  
  
  


While the imminent prospect of graduation looms over their heads like a low-hanging mist, Jeno admittedly has more important things to worry about. His workload for just about every one of his subjects seems to increase exponentially with every passing week, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he faces a frustratingly unproductive period of burnout— he’s just hoping it doesn’t happen anytime too soon.

“Whatcha thinking about?” He hears a voice muse, just as he’s wasting precious minutes staring into space at nothing in particular. Jeno looks up from his daze and sees Jaemin standing next to the chair across from him. 

He watches him pull the chair out from under the dark oak table with tired eyes. “How my head is going to explode if I look at another number ever again,” he half-says, half-grunts. 

Jaemin’s teeth are bared delicately in a small grin as he sits down and turns Jeno’s notebook around, blinking once or twice before turning it back to face Jeno again with a brief, “Nevermind. I can’t understand a word of this.”

“Neither can I,” groans Jeno, plopping his head onto the lined pages. “I’m done for.” 

“Have you asked any of the professors for help? I’m sure they’d be willing to explain the…” Jeno can hear Jaemin’s robes shuffling against the edge of the table as he gestures with his arms. “The… content.”

“No,” Jeno says into the paper. 

“Well, maybe you should? There’s no harm in doing so.” Jaemin suggests, bending over to put his own chin on the table. When Jeno lifts his head, Jaemin’s face is considerably near his. 

He tries not to look flustered. 

“Yeah… yeah, maybe.”

“Mhm?” Jaemin raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay, fine, I will.” Jeno rolls his eyes. Between the awful amount of childhood-induced academic pride packed up tightly in him, and the mortifying ordeal that is social interaction, the reluctance to act upon his word pounds away at the inside of his skull. 

Jaemin smiles again and opens his mouth to speak, before his group of Slytherin friends calls him over from the other side of the library. ‘Well, when duty calls,” he says to Jeno, before fishing a chocolate frog out of his pocket and sliding it over to Jeno. Then, as if reading his mind, he places a comforting hand on Jeno’s shoulder. “Don’t feel ashamed for asking for help,” he tells him, before turning on his heels and speedwalking to where the group of boys are. 

Jeno nods— once in reply to Jaemin and another time to tell himself he’ll do it, he will. What has he got to lose, anyway?

He watches Jaemin’s silver head of hair grow further and further away with every step he takes, until it disappears behind the rows of dark wooden shelves.

  
  
  


“He motivates me,” Jeno says, stroking the cat’s silver tail, “as gross as that sounds. He makes me want to get good grades and be a good person, 'cause I guess I do forget sometimes.” They’re seated at the bottom of the stairs, with Jeno’s quidditch broom and admin clipboard on the floor in front of them. 

“My mum would love him… you know? That kind of boy that everyone’s mum loves? That's Jaemin." He pauses. Sighs softly at the mention of his mother. 

"I kind of miss her. My mum. The other day they made dumplings for dinner and… what would you expect from a British school, right? The elves are all white, if you know what I mean. They sucked. Worst dumplings I've ever had in my life. And I thought, gosh I miss my mum's dumplings." 

The car purrs under his fingers. Nods in agreement. 

"I guess it's not just the dumplings I miss, though," Jeno admits. "Just having her around… I'm used to being at Hogwarts so I don't know why I'm feeling this way."

"I'm growing up too fast, cat. What do I do? I'm just getting older and older by the day and I'm not sure I like it."

The broomstick lies flat about a metre or so away from his feet. It's the same one he had when he was a first year. Back then, it was so much bigger to him— nearly reached the top of his head. Now he's fully grown into it. 

"The team's doing really well," Jeno continues. "I reckon Gryffindor's gonna take home the cup this year, truly. Everytime I think Heejin can't get any better she proves me wrong and it's like… wow. Not to be me but I don't think I've improved at all."

"I should shut up or I'll manifest it even more, shouldn't I?”

The cat stares at him, unblinkingly. 

“You’re right. I have to ask my professor about that section of my arithmancy.”

It blinks. 

‘Oh, but I don’t want to, though…” he whines, slumping his shoulders and straightening his legs. 

The cat stares at him sternly and jumps off his lap. Expectantly. 

“Okay, fine. Fine. I will.”

He yawns and picks up his things.  _ This is for the better _ , he thinks.  _ We’re going to get better. _

_ I’ll do them proud _ . 

  
  
  
  
  
  


This mindset waxes and wanes in numerous cycles by the time December swings around, and on Christmas Jeno’s right in the thick of what may be his lowest point. 

Slumped over a mug half-filled with tea, he stares into the fireplace as if his mother’s face still glows amidst the flames. There’s a moment or two that passes before he lets out another sigh and melts into the cold floor of the Gryffindor common room, and hums any melody he can think of in his head just to break the silence in the air. Doyoung’s knitted cardigan is wrapped tight around his shoulders, and he can’t decide if it gives him comfort or makes him feel worse about not being able to go home.

Piles of books and papers lie scattered around him on armchairs and tables and the floor— the common room becoming his study in the time he’s been here alone, but Jeno doesn’t feel like studying right now. 

He stands up, throws a coat on, and takes a walk out into the corridors. In his peripheral vision, a familiar silver tail swishes against the tapestries hanging in the hallowed halls.

But as soon as he’s fully registered what he’s seen, it slinks away into the shadows. 

  
  
  


He opens his letters from Donghyuck and Heejin and Jisung and Renjun.

He puts them back in their envelopes.

He takes them out.

He reads them again. 

He repeats.

“Would Jeno like another bowl of soup, this fine evening?” a house elf asks, as he’s in the middle of reading about Jisung and Chenle’s blossoming high school love affair for the fourth time. 

Jeno turns his gaze to the polite little creature next to the dinner table. Forces a smile and nods. “Yes please,” he replies. 

He expects the elf to turn around and head towards the kitchens immediately, but instead, he pauses on the spot and smiles at Jeno knowingly, as if there’s good news to be broken. Elves and their silly little tendencies would usually charm Jeno, but tonight, any sort of cheeriness makes him want to cry. 

Through tired eyes he turns back to his potions book and goes back to reciting the list of ingredients for amortentia.  _ Peppermint, rose thorns, powdered moonstone... _

He hears footsteps, and feels a tap on his shoulder. And when he turns around, he sees a beloved head of silver hair. 

And proceeds to cry. 

  
  


Jeno doesn’t know. It’s a messy conglomerate of repressed yearning and built up loneliness from the social isolation that’s whirred up such a strong emotional response in him, but upon seeing Jaemin again he feels like maybe he isn’t so alone after all. And upon hugging him close in a tight embrace, melting into his arms and resting his head on his shoulder, he feels like maybe he will be okay. 

Not really. He’s feeling everything a human being could possibly be feeling right now, blabbering on about things even he can’t understand. For what seems like ages, he continues sobbing into Jaemin’s turtleneck and feeling very bad for Jaemin because he’s putting him in a  _ rather uncomfortable situation right now _ . 

_ Also _ , he feels kind of gross when they finally pull apart, because Jaemin’s sweater is wet from all of Jeno’s tears and snot and he hopes he can’t sense the embarrassment creeping up on him in this moment. 

“It’s okay, I brought another sweater just in case,” Jaemin smiles, as if reading his mind. 

“I am so, so sorry.” Jeno doesn’t know how Jaemin knew he would be having a meltdown in the middle of the empty dining hall on Christmas day. 

“No, it’s for you. A Christmas present.”

And Jeno feels the tears well up all over again. 

  
  
  


As it turns out, Jaemin had ‘left something in his dorm over the holidays’ and ‘just thought’ he ‘might come over on Christmas to drop the gift off’. Much to Jeno’s devastation, the sweater is soft and caramel-coloured and smells vaguely of coffee and Jaemin. 

He’ll put it on as soon as Jaemin leaves. 

  
  


After a good couple of hours of catching up over soup and hot chocolate in the dining hall, Jeno walks Jaemin out to the gate of the school. 

They walk closely together and in slow paces. Usually Jeno would tease Jaemin for his old person-like walking speed, but tonight he can’t bring himself to mind. Tonight he wants to savour every last second in Jaemin’s company that he can get, and swim in the feeling like it’s a potion of  _ peppermint, rose thorns, powdered moonstones _ …

They stop in the doorway, and Jaemin looks at Jeno like he’s never looked at him before. Like there’s moonlight on his lips and chocolate in his eyes. And he looks so intensely that Jeno can’t help but feel like he needs to look away. 

You know, like when you put two magnets together and they do that  _ thing. _ There’s a metaphor in that somewhere, if you think hard enough, but right now Jeno doesn’t want to think. Right now Jeno just wants to—

“I’d better get going now,” Jaemin says, slicing through the thick of the moment like a shovel through snow or something else much, much more treacherous.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeno stammers, woken from the daze. “You should. It’s getting late.”

“It is,” Jaemin says, stealing a look at Jeno’s lips once more.  _ He really hopes it’s not because he’s got soup on his mouth. _

“Get home safe, okay? Send an owl as soon as you get back.”

“Or I could just text you,” Jaemin smirks, poking Jeno in the ribs. 

“Or, we could stop violating Hogwarts’ school rules for once and be lawful citizens of this… building…” he trails off, the words getting stuck between his teeth before they leave his mouth.

“It’s the winter holidays, Jen, loosen up a little! Anyways… anyways, I really do need to get going.” Jaemin flips the tail of his scarf over his shoulder and . 

“Thank you  _ so _ much for coming, Jaemin, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“It’s okay, Jeno, I promise. Plus I…” For the first time today, Jaemin looks shy. He shuffles his feet along the cobblestones. “I wanted to see you. On Christmas. Thanks for having me.”

Jeno doesn’t have anything to say to this— doesn’t know if he could put how he feels into words if he tried, but he pulls Jaemin into a hug instead and hopes that it’s enough to get the message across. 

“I’ve missed you a lot,” Jaemin whispers, as if the halls are still filled with students and teachers and people to hear him. Just one, tonight. Just one person will hear him. 

“Yeah,” Jeno murmurs back, in a tone just as hushed. “I missed you too.”

“Merry Christmas, Jeno,” Jaemin says, still whispering. 

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”

  
  


That night, Jeno has dreams for the first time in a long time. The images are blurred around the edges and he can’t see them as well as he’d like to be able to, but from the feelings alone he knows exactly what he’s dreaming of. And he thinks he likes it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Things go back to normal, to some degree, when Jeno’s classmates come back to school again after the break. The increase in assignments and exam stress moves ahead steadily, and after Donghyuck spills his second cup of coffee on his robes Jeno can't help but ponder the  _ meaning _ of it all. 

A passing professor shoots them both a glare upon hearing Donghyuck curse loudly, and frantically push his papers to the side to prevent further damage. 

Heejin rolls her eyes and fishes out a roll of toilet paper from her book bag, all the while not looking away from her Herbology textbook. Jeno knows better than to question it, and promptly helps Donghyuck to pat the table and his cloak dry. 

“Has Jaemin got Dark Arts study right now?” Jeno asks, as he’s folding his handkerchief and putting it to the side to dry. In hindsight he realises that he could have just used a drying spell instead of going to all the trouble of wiping, but it’s too late for him to change that now. 

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Donghyuck asks, eyes widening. “He’s at the infirmary for an injury.” 

Heejin seems to not have known this either, because she turns to Jeno right away with an expression plastered to her face that depicts a mixed bag of both shock and concer. 

Jeno’s face falls too, immediately upon hearing the news, and without a spare thought he gathers all his papers, stuffs them messily inside his leather satchel and gets up on his feet. “I’ve got to go,” he says with a shaky voice, and turns around to leave. 

  
  
  
  


“You really didn’t have to come, you know,” Jaemin says, leg propped up above the infirmary blankets. “It’s just a broken leg.”

“That sounds familiar.” Jeno would never admit it, but his smile is tinged with more stress than it is relief. “What are friends for?”

Jaemin looks at Jeno’s mouth again for what seems like ages, and Jeno pretends not to notice. He takes Jaemin’s hand and asks if he’s okay,  _ really _ . 

Jaemin nods sincerely, but seems to notice that Jeno can’t seem to stop worrying anyway. 

Matron comes in and opens her mouth to tell Jeno to leave, but Jaemin bats his eyelashes and asks her for another five minutes in a saccharine key that Jeno thinks would rot his teeth if given the opportunity. She sighs and closes the door after her, leaving the two of them alone in the infirmary again. 

Jeno doesn’t want to let go of Jaemin’s hand. Doesn’t want to let go of this place and its people and its memories and its Jaemin. His Jaemin. He doesn’t want to move on and grow up and be an adult and live his life the way he’s always feared he’d lead it. In offices and documents and statements only legal enough for sheets of cold white parchment. He doesn’t want this to slip away into photo frames and storytimes and faded realities he’ll only be able to shift back to through flames and cauldrons and memorised rituals. 

Jaemin takes a look into his eyes and reads them like they’re spells scribbled into the margins of an old exercise book, written in messy handwriting but clear as day. And Jeno thinks that that, in itself, is magic. 

The matron’s footsteps on the other side of the wall are getting closer and Jeno tells Jaemin that it’s time for him to go this time, before Jaemin pulls him a little closer and whispers in his ear something that could change a lot of things.

  
  


Perhaps he should have known, after all. 

  
  
  
  
  


Keeping Jaemin off his mind is achingly easy, Jeno discovers, when he actively seeks to pile as many things onto his schedule as possible— though to be fair, it’s not like he would have any time to get distracted, anyway. Jeno finds that the brink of mental and physical exhaustion may make him feel like he’s about to crash and burn at any given moment, but it effectively knocks him into a thoughtless blackout every night without fail, so he decides it may as well be a worthy sacrifice. 

Right now it’s just the studying and the assignments and the quidditch team preparations he’s got to focus on. And it’s all he’ll have to do. 

He’ll deal with his ‘feelings’ when he has the time for it. 

  
  


“You’ve stopped talking about cats,” Heejin observes one night after classes, when they’ve got the training roster and precariously placed inks scattered upon the common room rug between them. Jeno feels dangerously relaxed today, and that alone is stressing him out to no end.

“Cats?” Jeno asks. “The animal?”

“Yeah,” Heejin laughs lightly, “those.” 

Silence. Jeno doesn’t really know how to answer that question without getting uncomfortably vulnerable in front of his co-captain. Friend.  _ Gosh _ , Heejin is his friend. 

Someone who’s helped him. Been there for him. Made him laugh for seven whole years. Even dated him once (though they’d never admit it to a mere mortal like you). And how much have they talked to each other, in the past few weeks? How often has Jeno brushed her off to lock himself away and forget about the world? 

Heejin is his friend. 

His friend. 

Friend. 

He drops his head to the coffee table. Heejin doesn't question it. Instead she shuffles cautiously around to his side of the room and presses her side to his, wrapping her arms around his torso. Jeno melts into the embrace and doesn’t try to hide his tiredness from her, and just for a moment, the quietness feels calm. 

Heejin leans in a little closer and laces the fingers of one hand around his, and Jeno feels the tension in them untie and smooth out and float away like a feather in the early spring wind. “Jeno,” she whispers, unmoving, “we’re going to be okay.”

“Yeah?” Jeno’s awake, but his eyelids fall shut all the same. 

“Yeah.” She gives his hand a squeeze. It feels like home. 

“Heejin?”

“Yes, Jeno?” Heejin replies softly, drawing circles in the soft part of his hand. 

“I love you.”

“I know,” she says, not sounding as sure of it as she could. 

“Do you?” Jeno asks, turning around to face her properly. In doing so he knocks over a barely-full bottle of green ink with his foot, and before Heejin moves to pick it up, he stops her. “Do you?” He repeats his question, looking her in the eye as if he’ll find an answer there that he doesn’t already know. 

She holds his other hand. “I need reminding sometimes, you know. But even when I don’t I worry about you. We’re all worried.”

Jeno looks at the floor. 

“You’ve been so uncharacteristically focused these days-- to an unhealthy degree. You’re working all the time and doing stuff you don’t even need to do…” she holds a hand to stop him from interrupting, “... and don’t tell me you need to do all of that extra work. I saw your book last night, and none of the tasks even help your grade.”

She cranes her neck to meet his gaze. He sighs and looks at her like it’s his last resort. 

“Talk to him, Jeno. You need to sort this shit out.”

He pouts. 

“Okay?”

“Fine,” he whines, and they both laugh. 

Jeno picks up the bottle and wipes up the miniscule puddle of green ink with the black corner of his robes, much to Heejin’s horror. They stand up and begin to tidy up the academic paraphernalia cluttering the common room floor, chatting as if nothing had just happened and everything was the same as it had always been. A school full of promise and some kids there to take it. 

He’ll talk to Jaemin tomorrow. 

  
  
  
  
  


_ hi _

_ please meet me on the stairwell outside the astronomy tower. i’ll be waiting near the door. _

… is what Jaemin would see when he sits at his usual spot in potions on Thursday morning. Jeno’s too much of a coward to notify him in person, and the lack of signing off with his name? Well… that’s an accident. He knows Jaemin will recognise the handwriting, though, so all he has to do is wait. And then do the hard part. 

  
  
  
  
  


“I just can’t believe you waited so long to tell me this, Jaem,” Jeno says, when they’re both seated on the top step, and Jaemin looks like he’s about to burst into tears at any given moment. Jeno feels similarly. 

“I just, I…” Jaemin has a pleading look in those stupid crystal-ball eyes. “I didn’t know how to, or when to, and it’s not like I could just stop, and…” he trails off. 

“I would have told you this anyway if you asked, Jaemin. I’m not mad at you because of this, I’m not… I’m…” Jeno chokes, and he puts his head in his hands as the tears start falling— spilling down his cheeks and off his jaw like silvery raindrops on a particularly stormy day. 

“Hey,” Jaemin tries softly, running his hand up and down Jeno’s shoulder blades. The warmth that comes off of his fingertips is comforting. “Are- no. I know you’re not okay. Is there... is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

Jeno tries to wipe his eyes and cover his face at the same time. (Fails). “Could you maybe… turn back into a cat? I think it would be a little easier talking that way.”

The smile returns to Jaemin's face. “As you wish,” he says—  _ purrs _ while the transformation is already beginning to take place. It’s a jarring sight— a seventeen year-old schoolboy growing pointy grey ears and whiskers and a fluffy tail before shrinking into a small furball roughly the size of a textbook, but this isn’t Jeno’s first time experiencing it and in no time, Jaemin curled up on Jeno’s lap, nuzzling his furry back softly into the cloth of Jeno’s uniform button-up. A normal, regular, non-Jaemin cat.

“I know you like me, Jaemin,” he whispers, running his hands through the silver hair behind his ears. “I’ve known since that night.” 

_ They both know which night Jeno is talking about. That last Christmas, when Jaemin had shown up at Hogwarts unannounced. When he’d given him that sweater as a present and it’d smelled like him and Jeno had cried and cried and cried.  _

It’s at that moment that Jaemin bolts back into his human form— an uncomfortable one to be in when you are still sitting in your classmate’s lap. “Since then?” Jaemin spits, eyes wide, before realising what he’s just done and the two of them both flush violent shades of pink at becoming painfully aware of their current position. They’re so close right now and Jeno’s tears have conveniently dried away, giving him a full view of Jaemin’s flawless porcelain skin and defined eyebrows and Veela eyelids and bleached gun-metal hair and- God. 

“God?” Jaemin asks, raising an eyebrow. Jeno discovers then that he’s been thinking aloud. Neat. 

Jeno shakes his head, as if he can physically dismiss the question away. He’s embarrassed enough with this very bold, very beautiful boy perched on his legs at this very moment—  _ God _ . There’s a very bold, very beautiful boy perched on his legs at this very moment. “I uh…” Jeno starts again, albeit a little shakily. “Can you change back?”

Jaemin’s initial embarrassment must have worn off at the realisation that Jeno is just-as-if-not-more flustered than he is, and he flashes a bastardly bright grin his way. With… fuck. Why is Jaemin  _ pouting _ ? Disgusting. “I’d rather not,” said-pouter murmurs, said-Veela eyes widening and said-Veela face moving closer to Jeno’s own. Maybe an inch closer and any two of their facial features would be touching. And Jeno would probably start to cry again. 

“You sicken me, Jaemin Na,” Jeno hisses, just about as furiously as the flush on his cheeks. “I… fine. I like you too. But you already know that! Because I told you when you were a fucking  _ cat _ and I didn’t know you were  _ you _ and- my  _ God,  _ Jaemin Na, don’t look at me like that,” because Jaemin has the most infuriatingly smug look on his face for someone who’s in his current situation. He looks like he’s won something and Jeno’s lost— only he hasn't. Instead, he’s just handed him the prize on a silver platter. Maybe those are the same things, but Jeno feels like he’s won, too. 

“So if I maybe like you and you like me and are sitting all smug on my lap right now, why are we not kissing right now?” 

Jaemin answers by smirking again and placing his hands comfortably where Jeno’s jaw meets his neck, one on each side of his face. “Well,” he whispers, with all that infuriatingly sparkly Veela charm. “I thought you’d never ask.” 


End file.
